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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221401">We Are Infinite Too</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812'>Ride4812</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shameless (US)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Character Death, M/M, Suicide</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:41:13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,201</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29221401</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ride4812/pseuds/Ride4812</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The soulmate AU I promised I'd never write.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ian Gallagher &amp; Mickey Milkovich, Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>53</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>We Are Infinite Too</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>-Rolling over to gaze at the endless expanse of the sea, he knew that they were going to be infinite,<br/>too.-</p><p>Ian thought the view on the beach was beautiful, even in the dark. He couldn’t see much of the<br/>ocean, just the breaks of the waves that were illuminated by the full moon. And though the stars<br/>were twinkling in the deep inky sky, their brightness didn’t compare to the glint in Mickey’s<br/>glassy blue eyes. With sunburned cheeks and smiling lips, Mickey rested his tattooed hands on<br/>Ian’s thin hips. “I love you,” the brunet confessed, his voice dropped low not because he was<br/>ashamed for anyone to know, but because the words were only for him.</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Ian laughed, slotting their mouths together and taking pleasure in the taste of<br/>tequila on his husband’s tongue.</p><p>“Like I only tell you that when I am?” he flirted, his teeth nibbling on Ian’s lower lip, “tell you that<br/>shit all the time.”</p><p>“But you’re not as breathy about it. You’re breathy right now,” Ian pointed out, “all dramatic,<br/>sexy and sultry.”</p><p>“Fuck off,” he scoffed with a bashful grin, playfully shoving him away. He laughed when Ian<br/>came after him, looping his arms around his waist and burying his face into the crook of his neck.</p><p>“I like it,” he hummed, pressing a kiss onto the soft skin while taking a deep inhale of his<br/>husband’s intoxicating scent. It enchanted him, just always had. Though the salty sea air, cigarette<br/>smoke, and delicious food at Jorge’s Cantina attempted to permeate his senses, it was always the<br/>smell of Mickey that drew him in and kept him.</p><p>After years of deliberation, leaving the South Side for Puerto Peñasco hadn't been as difficult as he<br/>thought it would be. Life without Mickey had been harder and the realization that he could be<br/>relegated to living the rest of his days without him was unfathomable. Though he was happier<br/>than he'd ever been, he still found that sometimes pangs of homesickness would hit his chest.<br/>When they did, he cuddled close to his husband, breathed him in, and remembered that home was<br/>wherever he was; it always had been.</p><p>He couldn't remember a time when he didn't love Mickey. Through all the bullshit and pain, the<br/>love had remained, even during the years when he was too weak or selfish to prove it. Sometimes<br/>being surrounded by a scent that triggered a ten year timeline of emotions was too difficult to bear;<br/>regrets of time wasted, of promises broken, thoughts of what he could have done differently.<br/>There was so much weight in the memories; leaden moments had nearly sunk them, but in the<br/>end, never could.</p><p>"You smell like the South Side," Ian hummed against his skin.</p><p>"I smell like piss?" He questioned with a smirk, rubbing Ian's back underneath his white v-neck tshirt. The redhead laughed and shook his head.<br/>"You're just," he paused, closing his eyes as he relished his husband's soothing touch, "every part<br/>of it, every part of me."</p><p>"Puerto Penasco smells better." He stated simply.</p><p>"You're Puerto Penasco, too," He promised with a grin, wrapping his arms tighter around his<br/>everything. Mickey was his present, past, and future; every moment, every memory, every dream.<br/>Sometimes he wondered how one person could represent that much and realized it was easy to do<br/>when that person was made for you, and you for them.</p><p>Mickey laughed quietly at statement, holding back his taunting in favor of passionate kisses. Love<br/>had been hard for him years before; whether he'd been denying it or over supplying it. He wanted<br/>to chide himself for giving too much, but it had always been what Ian needed even if he'd denied<br/>it at the time. He'd wanted to believe that in the end, his love saved Ian in the same way it had<br/>liberated him. Standing on the beach a quarter mile away from the home they'd purchased in<br/>Mexico, proved to him that he did. "Need you," he whispered between fervent kisses, letting his<br/>hand slide down the front of Ian's jeans.</p><p>The redhead sighed into Mickey's mouth as his husband grasped around his shaft and began to<br/>stroke him slowly. The sound of the waves gently crashing a few feet away drowned out his soft<br/>panting. "Let's go," he urged, grabbing Mickey's wrist to remove it from his dick and intertwining<br/>their fingers.</p><p>It was late. They knew that Svetlana and Yevgeny would be fast asleep in the bungalow they<br/>shared with them on the beach. The anticipation of being able to let go in the bedroom more than<br/>they would on a typical weeknight had them walking fast down the final stretch of sand. Their<br/>mission was interrupted by a man’s voice calling to them from where he sat on a tattered old<br/>blanket, surrounded by candles. “Almas gemelas,” He cried, old eyes wide.</p><p>“Que (What)?” Ian asked confused, taken aback by the fact that the man was sitting alone in the<br/>middle of the night on the empty dark beach.</p><p>“Es raro para mi cruzarme con dos almas tan conectadas. Ven, siéntate conmigo. Déjame hablarte.<br/>Sería un honor,” He said, speaking too quickly for Ian or Mickey to follow.</p><p>Though their Spanish was improving, neither was fluent in the language, even after being in<br/>Mexico for a few years.</p><p>“No tengo ni idea de lo que acabas de decir (I have no idea what you just said),” Mickey stated<br/>with an exasperated sigh. “No hablo mucho español (We're not fluent in Spanish)."</p><p>“I speak English,” He said, his accent heavy. “I said you are soulmates. It is rare for me to come<br/>across two souls so connected. Come sit with me. Let me speak with you. It would be my honor.”</p><p>“Your honor?” Mickey asked skeptically, eyebrows raised high, “You some kinda weird fetish<br/>fucker or something?” Ian squeezed his hand tightly, a non-verbal cue to shut the fuck up.</p><p>The elderly man laughed at Mickey's assertion, rubbing his hands over his grey beard, seemingly<br/>unfazed by his brashness. "Soy un psíquico y médium," He informed them, shaking his head<br/>when he realized he'd spoken in Spanish. "I am a psychic and medium."</p><p>"Congratu-fucking-lations," Mickey stated, furrowing his brow. "We ain't interested and we're<br/>outta here."</p><p>"No thanks," Ian said politely, as his husband practically yanked his arm out of his socket to<br/>indicate they were moving on. The redhead knew better to argue with Mickey when he was<br/>horny, and he was that into talking to a psychic anyway.</p><p>"You have suffered greatly Mikhailo," The man stated, his voice loud enough to be heard by the<br/>couple who had begun to walk away.</p><p>"The fuck did you just say to me?" Mickey demanded, swinging around to watch the elderly man<br/>struggling to his feet so he could walk towards them.</p><p>"Mick," Ian warned, his heart beating fast as he glanced over his shoulder to see if the man had a<br/>more agile accomplice coming to jump them. It wouldn't be unheard of in Mickey's line of work<br/>for him to make enemies.</p><p>"I said you have suffered. You've suffered at the hands of your mother, your father, the system,<br/>yourself," he paused and regarded Ian, "your lover."</p><p>Instinctively, Ian rested his hand on the small of Mickey's back, protective and tender. "How did<br/>you know his name?" The redhead demanded, honing in on the stuttering breath his husband<br/>exhaled and moving his hand so it was holding his hip tightly.</p><p>"I see things. I know things; past, present and future," He said simply, gesturing towards his<br/>blanket. "Come sit with me. Please," he paused, brown eyes beseeching, "I've never had an<br/>opportunity to speak to two people as connected as you."</p><p>Mickey glared at him with equal parts skepticism, aggravation and awe. "Don't wanna hear that<br/>shit's gonna fall apart." He wanted to say that he'd had to endure life without Ian before and<br/>couldn't do it again, to admit that the thought of being without him made him physically ill, to<br/>admit that missing him had been the worst emotion he'd ever had to cope with, but instead of he<br/>going there he said, "Things always do, right? Nothing lasts forever." The buzz of the tequila had<br/>dissipated as soon as the old man called out has name, and he wished his mind still felt altered,<br/>rather than exposed.</p><p>"You last forever. The two of you are forever. If the Earth stops spinning and the sun combusts,<br/>your souls will still find their way to each other. They are bound together. You will last forever,"<br/>he assured the brunet, with an alarmingly earnest look on his face, "even when there's nothing<br/>left."</p><p>"Why the fuck are you out here when there's nobody around?" Mickey questioned, "This ain't a<br/>busy stretch of beach, even during the day."</p><p>"I felt compelled to come and now I know why; for you," He stated in amazement. "I came here<br/>for you."</p><p>"You better watch yourself," Ian cautioned, feeling the familiar discomfort of jealousy grabbing<br/>his lungs.</p><p>"And for you," he added quickly, "for you, Ian, who has always been born so sweet. There's<br/>never been a life where you haven't started out that way, it has only been a question of how soft<br/>you'd remain."</p><p>"How did you know my name?" He asked, drawing a slight laugh from the elderly man's mouth<br/>as he turned to head back to his blanket. He knew they would come with him and smiled when<br/>they did.</p><p>"I know yours, but you do not know mine," he tsked, ignoring the question that he'd already<br/>answered. He gestured for the men to take a seat, "I am Benedicto."</p><p>Ian and Mickey exchanged glances, a conversation without words, both wondering if they should<br/>listen to what he had to say. When it came down to it, the pull was too strong, the temptation too<br/>appealing. They sat down as far as they could from Benedicto while still remaining on the blanket,<br/>and as close as they could be to each other.</p><p>"It is interesting that you both pretend to deny it, but I know you are in tune with the words I am<br/>saying. Once a man has held the soul of the person he's been eternally promised to, he<br/>understands. The feelings I describe, you've already felt, and that is more impactful than my<br/>utterance of your names," the elderly man explained, "many times words cannot speak to an<br/>emotion; only feelings can."</p><p>Though he would've never described himself as talkative, Mickey was completely unable to<br/>access words after listening to Benedicto's statement. It was out of the ordinary for him to seek<br/>fleshy comfort from Ian in front of people, but he found himself cuddled up tight with his<br/>husband; lips pressed against Ian's neck and fingers intertwined. Ian tilted his head down and<br/>whispered, "Do you wanna go?"</p><p>"Nah," he replied, "kinda wanna know what the fuck he's talking about."</p><p>Benedicto cleared his throat. "Now, I could tell you about the present but you already know it,<br/>because you live it and your future," he paused to look at two sets of anxious eyes, "your future is<br/>beautiful. People are only given what they are able to endure in a lifetime. You reached your<br/>threshold in this difficult life. Smooth sailing from now on for men who were forced to navigate<br/>choppy waters. You've survived it, now you live free."</p><p>"So, that's it?" Mickey questioned with a scoff, "that's what you wanted to tell us?"</p><p>"I want to tell you about your pasts so you can truly understand just how deep your connection<br/>is."</p><p>"We fucking lived them, don't gotta hear about 'em," Mickey stated, not interested in rehashing the<br/>pain of prior years.</p><p>"Not your past in this lifetime but in the lifetimes before... reencarnación."</p><p>"Reincarnation?" Ian asked. Though the night was warm, he felt chills creep down his spine at the<br/>word. He hadn't given much thought to the concept, but Benedicto's knowledge of their names<br/>and the sincerity of his speech had him reeling, considering.</p><p>"Yes," Benedicto replied simply, "you've lived three lives before this one and in every lifetime<br/>you've found this same love. Almas gemelas, soulmates, born to love each other, over and over<br/>again." The elderly man took a deep breath, seemingly overwhelmed by emotion. "Your love<br/>knows no bounds."</p><p>Both Ian and Mickey were frozen in place, knuckles white from grasping hands so urgently. Their<br/>first instinct was to be leery of the man and what he was proposing, but their doubt waned when<br/>they reflected on the intensity of their feelings for one another; the connection they had was so<br/>different from anything else they'd witnessed. While their siblings fell in and out of relationships,<br/>each pairing more surface than the last, they remained, endured. Even during their darkest days,<br/>when they'd attempted to train themselves to live without each other, they knew. Moving on had<br/>proved to be futile; every moment spent with someone who didn't understand the darkest and most<br/>desperate corners of their soul brought more pain than pleasure.</p><p>"The fuck?" Mickey muttered, reason demanding he remain dubious, while his heart knew better.</p><p>"Three lives?" Ian asked, "What..." he shook his head, unsure of how to phrase the question,<br/>"what were we like? Where were we or whatever?"</p><p>Mickey's head shot to side so he could look at Ian. He would have been surprised that his husband<br/>was buying it, if he hadn't been contemplating it himself.</p><p>"What?" The redhead inquired almost bashfully. He settled a bit when Mickey leaned in to kiss<br/>his forehead, a silent agreement that he was going to listen with a patient mind and an open heart.<br/>He reached into his back pocket to pull out his carton of cigarettes in a lighter. Sliding one<br/>between Ian's lips and another between his own, he lit them up with trembling hands.</p><p>Benedicto gazed at Mickey, the flickering flame of the candles that lined his blanket dancing<br/>across his slate grey eyes. "You were a King, Mikhailo."</p><p>"A king?" Mickey snickered, eyebrows raised high with equal parts incredulity and amusement.</p><p>"My king," Ian crooned quietly, catching his husband's lips.</p><p>"Corny motherfucker," the brunet chided without malice, kissing Ian back.</p><p>"A king," Benedicto confirmed, "the King of Wales to be precise. You fell head over heels in love<br/>with the Irish ambassador's son." He looked directly at Ian, "you."</p><p>"So, we were gay back in the..." Ian trailed off waiting for the psychic to fill in the blanks.</p><p>"The late 1530's."</p><p>Mickey let out a wry laugh. "Sure that ended well, huh?"</p><p>"It ended as well as it could," Benedicto stated with a shrug. "Only months after meeting Ian, you<br/>gave up your crown and moved back to Ireland with him."</p><p>"The fuck, Gallagher!" Mickey tsked playfully, deciding to have fun with the conversation even<br/>though it was freaking him the fuck out. "Gave up my fucking crown for your dumbass."</p><p>"I'll buy you one," Ian offered with a grin, enjoying the levity in Mickey's tone.</p><p>"Shit better be gold then. Ain't gonna fuck around with plastic after I gave up my throne for you."</p><p>"I'll see what I can do."</p><p>Benedicto smiled at them as he appreciated their easy banter. "Shall I go on?"</p><p>They nodded.</p><p>"Life in Galway was beautiful for you; though your physical work on the farm was heavy,<br/>everything else was light and easy. It was very much the antithesis of the stress you endured in<br/>Wales..."<br/>***<br/>Galway, Ireland June 1541</p><p>Galway was always incredible, but Mickey found it to be the most stunning in the summer. It was<br/>his second June in Ireland and the beauty hadn’t ceased to amaze him. In Wales, he spent years<br/>living among the most impressive gardens and lush landscapes, but even the impeccably well-maintained <br/>grounds of his castle paled in comparison to the splendor of Galway. He wasn’t sure if<br/>it was because of the land itself or the man whose feet walked beside him on it. He looked from<br/>Ian’s weathered boots to his own as they ambled through a rolling field of daises; the green of the<br/>grass washed white with flowers.</p><p>“They’re never-ending,” He mused, as he admired the expanse of blooms.</p><p>“Would you want them to?” Ian asked with a smirk that easily gave way to a smile when his<br/>boyfriend passed a basket of barley into his other hand and reached over to intertwine their fingers<br/>as they walked. “Mo fhear álainn (my beautiful man),” He crooned, gazing into eyes as blue as the<br/>cloudless sky.</p><p>Mickey grinned back at him, feeling that everything should be infinite in Galway. The hours past<br/>too quickly, the flowers would eventually die, and every moment that slipped away from them<br/>was one they’d never be able to grasp onto again. Time with Ian was too short. If they had<br/>forever, he’d wish for another day. “Wanna sit down for a minute?” He asked, gesturing to a<br/>grouping of pink blossom trees in the near distance.</p><p>The redhead nodded knowingly, picking up his pace and pulling Mickey along with him. They<br/>laughed their way to the base of the trees, tossing their harvest onto the vibrant grass as they<br/>tumbled to the ground, lips pressed passionately against each other, tongues tangled. “Is breá liom<br/>tú (I love you),” Ian exhaled into his lover’s mouth, assuring that Mickey swallowed the words<br/>and their sentiment spread through his veins like blood pumping into his heart.</p><p>“Is breá liom tú,” Mickey promised, climbing on top his boyfriend so he was straddling his waist;<br/>taking in the beauty below him. “Go deo (forever). Beidh mé grá duit go deo (I’ll love you<br/>forever).”</p><p>“Agus ina dhiaidh sin (and beyond)?” Ian asked softly, chuckling when the brunet nuzzled his<br/>face into the nape of his neck and blew a sloppy raspberry.</p><p>“Go deo agus ina dhiaidh sin (forever and beyond),” He confirmed, grinning at how rosy Ian’s<br/>cheeks were, stained with the evidence of his laughter and love.</p><p>“You’re doing well with your Gaelic,” he complimented, reaching up to push a stray lock of black<br/>hair off Mickey’s pale forehead.</p><p>“You only teach me nice shit to say to you,” he retorted, laughing when Ian grabbed him under<br/>the armpits and slammed him down onto the soft tuft of fragrant grass.</p><p>“It’s because that’s all I say to you,” Ian reasoned, unable to keep a straight face, though he tried.</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Mickey challenged, “You weren’t saying nice shit to me last night when you were<br/>bitching about me stealing the blanket.”</p><p>“I don’t even know why you needed it, it wasn’t cold and you have me,” he groused, “You were<br/>all wrapped up in it and I couldn’t get to you. I like to feel you against me.”</p><p>“Ah, so that’s what it was about,” he smirked, “I was denying your needy ass access.”</p><p>Ian shrugged. “It’s your fault.”</p><p>“What’s my fault?”</p><p>“You made me this way,” he said simply, “made me crave you.”</p><p>“How the fuck did I do that?” Mickey licked his full lips salaciously, an open invitation that Ian<br/>eagerly took.</p><p>“This mouth,” he hummed as his hands traveled down his boyfriend’s body, “this heart,” he<br/>tapped his fingers against Mickey’s chest for affect before letting them move lower, “this dick,<br/>perfect dick.”</p><p>“Mmm, that right, Gallagher?” Mickey flirted as Ian’s digits trailed over the bulge in his pants to<br/>his backside.</p><p>“This ass. You got the best ass,” he complimented, grasping two heaping handfuls of his<br/>boyfriend’s butt, “I love it.” He adjusted himself so he was on top of Mickey and could sidle<br/>down his body. “These knees. Never got on them before me, learned to bow for me the way I<br/>bowed to you.”</p><p>“Always got me on my knees for you,” Mickey said, his breath hitching as Ian’s mouth grazed<br/>over the crotch of his pants.</p><p>“Now they’re bruised and sore from collecting barley,” Ian reflected, looking up at Mickey with<br/>sadness in his eyes and guilt in his heart, “the life you gave up for me.” He shook his head and<br/>sighed.</p><p>“Don’t do this,” the brunet chided, “told you not to fucking do it, baby.” He sat up a bit so he<br/>could pull his lanky boyfriend on top of him, and then laid down flat, bodies pressed flank against<br/>each other. Mickey hated it when Ian blamed himself for all he had seemingly lost, failing to<br/>realize that he had gained more than he’d ever expected to have in his life and would do it all over<br/>again if given a choice.</p><p>“Do you miss it? Any of it?” Ian inquired, searching Mickey’s eyes for an honest answer.</p><p>“Not the castle, the power, the country,” he replied , “I guess I miss Thomas and Svetlana<br/>though.”</p><p>“We should go,” the redhead suggested, “Thomas said in his latest letter that England would<br/>consider it a friendly visit.”</p><p>Mickey shook his head and clicked his tongue. “England can say a lot of shit, and they do, but<br/>that don’t mean I’m gonna believe it. Ain’t worth it.”</p><p>“You think they’d really fuck with you?” Ian asked skeptically.</p><p>“Not trying to find out. Got too much to live for to die for a country that didn’t give a shit about<br/>me in the end. I’d rather live for you than die for them.”</p><p>Ian nodded, not wanting to push the subject even though he knew Mickey missed his friends more<br/>than he cared to admit. He rolled off him so they were lying beside one another, staring up at the<br/>colorful limbs of the trees above them, admiring how streams of sunlight made their way through<br/>the cuts and gaps in the canopy. “An bhfuil cinnte mé leat chun a chreidiúint i taibhsí go fóill<br/>(have I convinced you to believe in ghosts yet)?” he questioned, drawing a laugh from Mickey’s<br/>lips.</p><p>“B'fhéidir beagán níos mó ná a bhí agam (maybe a little more than I did),” he conceded, shaking<br/>his head at his boyfriend’s persistence on the subject.</p><p>“I want to live for you, die for you and then live for you again,” Ian confessed, “Promise me if<br/>there isn’t more than this life you’ll be with me in death.” Mickey’s eyes grew wide at the<br/>seriousness in his boyfriend’s tone, the conversation typically more teasing and playful than it<br/>seemed to be under the shade of the flowered tree. “Promise me you’ll believe we can be eternal<br/>even when we’re dead.”</p><p>“I promise,” Mickey assured him, squeezing his hands, “I promise I’ll love you when we’re<br/>ghosts.”</p><p>The redhead let out a labored sigh, smiled and rested his hand on his boyfriend’s pale cheek, “Mo<br/>spiorad álainn (my beautiful ghost).”</p><p>***<br/>“So, I was really a king?” Mickey questioned, nodding his head in amazement while regarding<br/>Benedicto somewhat cautiously, “That’s pretty fucking cool.”</p><p>“That’s what you took away from it? That you were a king?” Ian scoffed, poking his husband in<br/>the rib cage.</p><p>“Your jealousy’s showing, Gallagher,” the brunet teased with a smirk. He raised his eyebrows,<br/>“Fucking royalty. Think I’m gonna make your ass bow to me from now on.”</p><p>“King Mikhailo sounds sweeter than South Side Mikhailo,” Ian stated with a tsk, laughing when<br/>Mickey tickled under his armpit.</p><p>“You’d like it though… bowing,” Mickey flirted, “know you’d like that shit.”</p><p>The old man cleared his throat, causing Ian and Mickey to turn to him quickly and clamp their<br/>mouths shut. He smiled at them both before focusing on Mickey, “You were a better boyfriend<br/>than king.”</p><p>“I’m a really fucking good boyfriend, so that ain’t saying much,” he replied easily.</p><p>“The best,” Ian assured him, “even better husband.”</p><p>“You two are very sweet with each other even when you’re speaking,” Benedicto paused<br/>searching for the correct term, “brashly.”</p><p>“Grew up together,” Ian replied, “been giving each other shit for a while.”</p><p>“Longer than you ever imagined,” the psychic reminded him.</p><p>“Was I ever anything special? A king or whatever?” Ian asked tentatively.</p><p>“You’ve always been special,” Benedicto said carefully, “but never royalty.”</p><p>“Letting him down easy,” Mickey laughed, earning a hard smack in the arm from his husband.<br/>“You’re pouting, Firecrotch. If I could’ve chosen I would’ve let you be the king, alright?”</p><p>“I don’t need your pity throne.”</p><p>“Such a bitch,” the brunet chided without malice.</p><p>“So, would you like to hear about your next life?” Benedicto asked, looking forward to changing<br/>the subject.</p><p>“Up to you,” Mickey said looking into his husband’s green eyes and tilting his head with a shrug.</p><p>“Yeah, let’s do it,” He agreed, reaching for Mickey’s hand again.</p><p>“This current life wasn’t the first in which you had military dreams,” Benedicto began, causing a<br/>shock of emotion to course through Ian’s body; forgotten ambitions and lost chances, “you were<br/>16 years old when you enlisted in the army to fight with the Union during the American Civil<br/>war…”<br/>***<br/>Gettysburg, Pennsylvania July 1863</p><p>Though sleeping on the ground was never his first choice, Mickey found that lying under peach<br/>trees next to his carrot top was preferable to other options. Being at war wasn’t about comfort, but<br/>he’d lucked out to find some in a freckle faced little liar. He’d been able to tell as soon as he saw<br/>Ian standing behind him in line at enlistment that he wasn’t of age, but it seemed that men of a<br/>higher rank either didn’t notice or chose to ignore the obvious. He was surprised to find during<br/>their brief training that Ian was proficient with weapons as if he’d practiced and used them in a<br/>war in the womb. It seemed it was easier for many to overlook his baby face when it was<br/>accompanied by skillful hands; Mickey included.</p><p>It wasn’t as though his mouth had sought Ian’s out; it just seemed their lips found each other<br/>whenever the sun dipped low in the sky, allowing the moon to rise. It had started with whiskey<br/>and loneliness and ended in love. Sloppy stolen kisses gave way to leaving their virginity behind<br/>in ditches and whispers of promises they hoped they could keep.</p><p>“Ian.” He gently shook the man beside him, who startled immediately at the touch.</p><p>“Are they coming?” the redhead’s voice practically squeaked as he reached for his rifle.</p><p>“Shh,” Mickey soothed, shaking his head and glancing around to see if Ian’s reaction had woken<br/>any of the other men in their regiment. When he saw they were still sound asleep he gave his lover<br/>a sideways smile and bit his lip, “c’mere.”</p><p>Returning the grin, Ian crawled on his elbows closer to Mickey and slotted their mouths together.<br/>The kiss was as candied as it was clandestine; magnets pulling towards each other even when they<br/>should have repelled apart.</p><p>“You taste like peaches,” Mickey murmured, careful to keep his voice.</p><p>“I ate like five of them,” he replied, “I was really hungry.”</p><p>Mickey sighed at the confession, “You’re gonna get diarrhea real bad.”</p><p>“Fuck, really?” He whispered.</p><p>Mickey shrugged. “I think so. Our stomachs have been empty and that’s a lotta fiber to put in it.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Fucking literally,” He laughed quietly, causing an embarrassed grin to pull at his boyfriend’s lips.</p><p>“You’ll have to cover me. I don’t wanna get lit up when I’m taking a dump.”</p><p>“I got your back,” Mickey promised glancing down at Ian’s crotch, “and your front.”</p><p>“Do you now?” Ian flirted, leaning back in for another kiss. He let out a breathy gasp when</p><p>Mickey dropped his hands down his pants and positioned his palm against his shaft, beginning to<br/>rub. “Feels good,” Ian mewled, “keep going.”</p><p>Mickey watched the pleasure wash over his boyfriend’s face as he increased his pace. He’d never<br/>get over how beautiful the other man was; how the evidence of his contentment could do more for<br/>him than his own fulfillment. A loud cough from a nearby soldier had them jumping apart and<br/>laying their heads down on the grass, allowing the overgrown blades to tickle their skin as they<br/>attempted to slow their breaths.</p><p>A set of toes tapping against his knee reassured Mickey that nobody had seen them, but they both<br/>knew better than to go for it again. Instead, they engaged in a playful game of footsie until they<br/>drifted back to sleep.</p><p>Their brigade was up before daybreak to make their way to Little Round Top, an order that came<br/>specifically from Major General Meade himself. Holding the high ground would be paramount to<br/>a potential Union victory; a victory they believed would be a turning point in the war, one that<br/>would send them home to their mothers and their future.</p><p>“You feeling alright?” He asked as they trudged up the elevation.</p><p>Ian nodded and gave him a companionable pat on the back, his hand lingering just a bit longer<br/>than was friendly. When they reached the top of the mountain, they stood next to each other<br/>taking in the expanse of the battlefield down below them. Their bodies thrummed with adrenaline<br/>as they received their orders from the commanding officer; whatever it took, they were to hold the<br/>line.</p><p>Blasts and bangs rang through their ears as the battle began. Bullets rained down on the army<br/>below, their position proving to be as positive as they’d hoped it would. Mickey felt his body relax<br/>as he watched the Confederates retreat, not expecting the cry he heard next.</p><p>“Behind,” A comrade yelled, causing the battalion to shift and spin to face their adversaries that<br/>had snuck up the mountain while they’d been distracted with the faction in front of them.</p><p>“I need to reload,” Ian yelled to Mickey as they dropped down to their bellies, attempting to<br/>remain as flat to the ground as possible while they fired their guns.</p><p>“Do it. I’ll cover you,” Mickey assured him as Ian pulled up to reach for his ammunition. Nimble<br/>hands loaded the gun expertly and allowed the redhead to get flank to the ground at a swift pace.</p><p>“Got it?”</p><p>“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied, green eyes fixed on the enemy.</p><p>Though the air was full of noise, Mickey couldn’t miss the sick thud of a skull falling to rock<br/>beside him. He snapped his head to the side to see Ian lying prone; red hair soaked with blood, all<br/>his dreams left on a rock to die.</p><p>Albany, New York September 1864<br/>It was strange to be home having lived a lifetime since he last stepped foot in his mother’s house.<br/>He endured the weepy hugs from family, unable to hold back his own tears when he thought of<br/>what their homecoming would have been like if Ian was still alive; if he’d made his way out of the<br/>hell instead of perishing on the battlefield. Mickey would’ve sat down to dinner and snuck of<br/>afterward to meet up with him. They’d establish a secret spot where they could be finally be free<br/>to explore each other’s bodies in ways they hadn’t been able to with their fellow soldiers lying<br/>beside them.</p><p>He apologized for his emotions, telling his worried family that he was exhausted. Making his way<br/>up to his bedroom, he laid down and wished he was still on the ground of the orchard rather than<br/>his lonely bed that couldn’t provide nearly as much comfort as Ian could.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he stayed in the same spot staring up at the ceiling or what had finally<br/>compelled him to walk over to the book shelf to pull out a spine that looked unfamiliar to him. He<br/>knew, however, it was for a reason and had a suspicion of what that was. Slowly, he turned the<br/>pages in the Robert Browning book of poetry to the dog-eared tabs, focusing on the words that<br/>had the slight indentation of a dragged fingernail beneath them:</p><p>"What of soul was left, I wonder, when the kissing had to stop?"</p><p>"My sun sets to rise again."</p><p>"So, fall asleep love, loved by me... for I know love, I am loved by thee."</p><p>Floored when each quote reminded him more of his love than the last, he gently tucked the book<br/>under his arm and walked down the stairs to the living room where his mother was knitting him<br/>new socks.</p><p>“Ma, this your book?” He asked, handing it to her and watching as she studied it with perplexed<br/>eyes.</p><p>She shook her head, “I’ve never seen it before, honey. You know I’m not one for poetry.”</p><p>“Is it Mandy’s?”</p><p>His mother just looked at him with amusement on her face, “Your sister is beautiful, Mikhailo, but<br/>she is not much of a reader. You were gone a while, but that much hasn’t changed.”</p><p>Mickey glanced back down at the book before looking to his mother. “You cooking something?”</p><p>“I’m not, but I could. Are you hungry? I thought you’d had your fill earlier.”</p><p>“No….” his voice trailed off as the foreign scent continued to permeate his nose. “I’m alright.” He<br/>glanced out the window at the trees that had already begun to lose their leaves. “Are peaches in<br/>season?”</p><p>“Are you feeling alright, Mikhailo?” She questioned, concerned by his peculiar inquiries.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said, “I’m just wondering. Are they in season?”</p><p>“No, we won’t get them again until Mid-May. Our apples aren’t even growing. It was a blistering<br/>summer,” she sighed, “as you know too well.”</p><p>He nodded. “I’m gonna go…” His voice trailed off as he made his way outside, the smell of<br/>peaches growing stronger with every inhale. He laid face down in the tall blades of grass, letting<br/>them tickle his skin, allowing his mind to go back to thinking about him, thankful for the visit and<br/>aching for more.</p><p>***<br/>"Seriously?" Ian asked, his chin jutting out in aggravation. "I died?"</p><p>"You must always die. Dying is the only way to come back alive," Benedicto replied simply, "if it<br/>weren't for all your prior deaths you would not have this life, this moment, this man," he gestured<br/>to Mickey, who had his hand resting high on Ian's thigh.</p><p>The cool ocean breeze whipped up into a gust and snuffed out several of Benedicto's candles in<br/>the process. The old psychic, struck a match and lit them once again, only have them go out again<br/>with the next blow. Ian's teeth chattered from the sudden coolness of the air and the nerves that<br/>were prickling below his skin.</p><p>"You cold, man? We done with this shit?" Mickey asked, knowing that the conversation was<br/>bound to cause a spike in his husband's anxiety in the days to come.</p><p>"I want to know about the last one," Ian stated, crossing his arms over his chest and sighing<br/>contentedly when Mickey sidled behind him, wrapped his arms protectively around his waist and<br/>pressed his body heat against his back, soothing him.</p><p>"It's not the last, but the next..." Benedicto corrected, drawing an annoyed huff from Mickey, who<br/>was resting his chin on Ian's shoulder.</p><p>"Let's speed it the fuck up, Benny. It's late and I'm tired," the brunet complained, already thinking<br/>about what he could do to calm his husband when they got home.</p><p>The elderly man nodded. "I must warn you though, this life was not easy for either of you and it<br/>ended rather abruptly. Would you like me to continue?"</p><p>"Well since you really sold it..." Mickey snarked sarcastically. "You alright, baby?" He whispered<br/>into Ian's ear, clicking his tongue when the redhead let out a soft 'yeah.'</p><p>"As you know, it was just recently that being homosexual became more socially acceptable,"<br/>Benedicto began carefully.</p><p>"You ain't telling us anything we don't know," Mickey grunted.</p><p>"I know this lifetime hasn't been kind to you in this regard either," the elderly man said, "but you<br/>have a strong, loving son to show for your struggles."</p><p>"Don't talk about Yevgeny," Ian snapped quickly, "Don't want you to talk about him. Tell us<br/>about the past, but don't bring him into it." He couldn't help but be disturbed by the fact that the<br/>man sitting across from them knew the way Yevgeny's life would unfold and had insight into the<br/>lives he lived in the past. Knowing any of that information felt invasive and downright terrifying.<br/>Mickey rubbed both of his husband's arms in an attempt to pacify him as Benedicto nodded his<br/>understanding.</p><p>"It was the 1950's and you rather unhappily in Maine..."<br/>***<br/>Portland, Maine August 1954</p><p>Ian aimlessly pushed the peas around his plate with his fork while vaguely listening to Natalie and<br/>Anna drone on about the other ladies at the country club.</p><p>“Isn’t it painfully gauche that Greta did that, Ian? I think it’s horribly tacky, don’t you?” Natalie<br/>asked, answering her own question just as she typically did; another one of his wife’s habits that<br/>aggravated him to no end.</p><p>“Sounds pretty bad,” He agreed dutifully.</p><p>“You weren’t even listening to me,” She scoffed, crossing her arms over her ample chest and<br/>glaring at him with brown eyes that were demanding an admission of guilt that he wasn’t going to<br/>give.</p><p>“That’s why you have Natalie, right? To talk shit about the other girls at the club,” He reasoned,<br/>shoving a dinner roll into his mouth, before indicating that it was too full to continue the<br/>conversation.</p><p>“Mickey hardly listens to me,” Anna commiserated, tilting her head to the side and sighing in<br/>solidarity with her friend.</p><p>“I heard that,” the brunet man sitting beside her stated, drawing a laugh from Ian, “so I guess I<br/>fucking listen sometimes, right, if I heard that?”</p><p>“Only when I speak negatively about you,” Anna said quietly, giving him a terse grin that<br/>screamed ‘shut the fuck up.’</p><p>“Nah, we know that ain’t true. If it was, I’d be listening to you all the time.”<br/>Natalie coughed uncomfortably and stood up to clear the dinner plates. “Anna, why don’t you<br/>come help me slice the pie?”</p><p>Her seething friend nodded and tossed the napkin that had been lying on her lap onto the table,<br/>shooting her husband a deadly look before following the other woman into the kitchen.</p><p>“Women,” Mickey grunted, allowing his eyes to study the man sitting across from him.<br/>Ian just sighed in response, thanking his wife as she placed a piece of apple pie in front of him.<br/>The couples ate their dessert in tense silence, knowing they shouldn’t say the words that were<br/>hanging on the tips of their tongue. The awkwardness had become palpable when Mickey finally<br/>took matters into his own hands. “Got that new Hudson Hornet,” he stated, looking directly at Ian,</p><p>“It’s a V6 but it’s fast as shit. Wanna go for a ride?”</p><p>Instinctively, Ian turned to Natalie, who shrugged her permission.</p><p>“Don’t take too long, Mikhailo,” Anna urged as the two men pushed their chairs in and headed<br/>towards the front door, “you’re in charge of the dishes and it’s getting late.”</p><p>“Whatever,” Mickey muttered, grabbing his car keys and getting the fuck out of the house he<br/>hated that he’d bought with the money he made at the job he hated worse.</p><p>“Nice,” Ian said simply as they got into the shiny black car.</p><p>“Figured we’d head up to Two Lights Park,” the brunet suggested as the engine turned over,<br/>“leave the two chickens to peck at each other.”</p><p>Ian nodded his agreement and stared forward as they drove down the dark, winding street.</p><p>“You lose your voice?” Mickey taunted, licking his lips as he caught a look at Ian through his<br/>peripheral vision.</p><p>“Just my balls,” he replied simply.</p><p>“Know that ain’t true.” He laughed and caught a smile on the other man’s face.</p><p>“Sure about that?” Ian flirted, “you wanna check?”</p><p>Mickey lifted his eyebrows and rested his hand high on Ian’s thigh, letting it travel towards his<br/>crotch as he kept his gaze on the road ahead. “Mmm yeah, knew they were still there.” He<br/>continued to rub the bulge in Ian’s slacks as he sped towards their destination.</p><p>“Feels good.”</p><p>“Gonna make it feel better.”</p><p>“Always do,” Ian hummed, dropping his head back, closing his eyes and relishing in the sensation<br/>of his lover’s touch, “hold on.” He quickly unbuckled his pants and shimmied them down enough<br/>to pull his cock out.</p><p>“Fuck,” Mickey grunted, swerving on the road as he salaciously stared at the huge dick, “gonna<br/>make me crash this thing.”</p><p>“Maybe I want you to,” He retorted, pulling Mickey’s hand back over to his erection, “put me<br/>outta my fucking misery.”</p><p>“Don’t talk like that,” Mickey chided as he stroked the redhead’s cock, “can’t think about losing<br/>your dumbass.”</p><p>“I’d bring you with me,” Ian said between his groans, “escape together.” He began to pant as<br/>Mickey picked up his pace, “Pull over. I gotta fuck you.”</p><p>“We’re almost there, baby,” the brunet laughed, loving that he had the power in his palm to make<br/>the other man lose his mind.</p><p>“So am I,” he stated, biting his lower lip hard, trying to gain control.</p><p>“Hold out,” Mickey urged, unrelenting in his pumping, “as soon as we park I’m gonna bend my<br/>ass over for you and make you fill it up.”</p><p>“Mmm drive faster.”</p><p>Once he pulled up to their familiar fucking spot at the top of the bluff, Mickey had Ian do just that.<br/>Grabbing on to the upholstery of the backseat of his car, he moaned as his lover took him from<br/>behind.</p><p>“I love you,” Ian whispered, hunching over Mickey’s back and licking his ear lobe as he pushed<br/>into him deeper.</p><p>“I love you,” He sighed, turning his head and tilting his chin up so Ian could lean in to lock their<br/>mouths together.</p><p>Ian dragged his hand down the foggy window as he came, shivering and shaking through the<br/>intensity of his orgasm while his lover did the same.</p><p>“Goddamn, Gallagher,” Mickey complimented, once he caught his breath enough to speak, “Just<br/>gave me the fuck of my lifetime, man.”</p><p>“Giving you what you deserve,” he replied with a smirk, pressing his lips against Mickey’s for<br/>one last lazy kiss before they headed back to their lives. When he pulled back he noticed<br/>contemplation deep in his blue eyes.</p><p>“Were you serious?” Mickey questioned, “about wanting to die?”</p><p>“Don’t have much to live for,” Ian stated plainly, “besides you, everything is shit. I’ve thought a<br/>lot about running away…”</p><p>“and?”</p><p>“And what would we run to? There’s no magical place where people like us are accepted. We’d<br/>spend the rest of our lives hiding. I’d rather not live if it means we’re always going to be doing it<br/>halfway and in the corners. Do you believe in Heaven?”</p><p>Mickey nodded, “Yeah, but I don’t think they’re rolling out the fucking red carpet for our type up<br/>there.”</p><p>“Maybe not, but we don’t know,” Ian stated, taking a drag from the cigarette Mickey lit for them,<br/>“what could be worse than the hell we’re living?”</p><p>“Actual Hell?” Mickey suggested with a smirk. He watched as beams streamed down from the<br/>lighthouse and alternated between illuminating and casting shadows on Ian’s perfect face. Each<br/>time the darkness lifted to give way to light, he looked more like an angel, washed in so much<br/>beauty that Mickey began thinking Heaven must exist if he did. Maybe Ian had been sent down to<br/>him to free him from his life; an Angel of Mercy ready to take him away. “I think we should.”</p><p>“You what?” Ian questioned, surprise dancing across his eyes.</p><p>“End it,” Mickey said quietly.</p><p>“Start it,” Ian corrected.</p><p>“The car?”</p><p>“That too,” he stated, “but our lives… we do this and it isn’t the end, right? It’s the beginning.<br/>There has to be something better for us… so we find it.”</p><p>“At the bottom of the ocean?</p><p>“Maybe?”</p><p>“This is pretty fucking crazy,” the brunet said, his hands trembling as he turned the key in the<br/>ignition, “and what if we never find it? Something better?”</p><p>“We’ll be dead then and we won’t know,” Ian said matter-of-factly. He placed his hand on<br/>Mickey’s cheek and looked him square in the eyes, “Maybe we should talk this out a little more. It<br/>doesn’t seem like you’re really sure.”</p><p>“It doesn’t seem like something you’re supposed to think through. You just fucking do it, so let’s<br/>fucking do it,” He said pressing his lips against Ian’s for a frenzied kiss. “I’d rather roll the dice on<br/>happiness than take the sure bet of sadness.”</p><p>“I’d live for you,” Ian promised, “if you don’t wanna do this, I’d live for you.”</p><p>“Rather die for you,” Mickey assured him, laying his foot heavy on the gas and intertwining their<br/>fingers as the car shot forward “and hope for the chance that we’ll live again.”</p><p>They soared through the air before being tucked into the water, resting in the peace they were<br/>never given the opportunity to have.<br/>***<br/>Ian and Mickey both sat in stunned silence, staring at Benedicto with wide eyes. It took several<br/>swallows for Ian to be able to push down the lump that had risen in his throat. "So that was it?" he<br/>questioned, voice shaking "we killed ourselves?"</p><p>Benedicto nodded.</p><p>“So we just fucking suffer?” Mickey asked through gritted teeth, “That’s what you wanted to<br/>show us? That from one life to the next we suffer?”</p><p>“No, I want to show you how you survive,” the older man stated matter-of-factly.</p><p>“We died,” Ian argued, “that isn’t surviving.”</p><p>“Bodies aren’t souls,” Benedicto reminded him. “When your bodies are gone, your souls survive.<br/>There is something beautiful about this choice you made, yes? You took the lover’s leap, off a<br/>cliff, hands held tight…”</p><p>"Into this life," Mickey added, unclenching his fists and thinking how strange it was that<br/>Benedicto was making a lot of sense, "Does shit every carry through, y'know, from one life to the<br/>next?"</p><p>"You already know the answer to that question," Benedicto said with a nod. "It would be nearly<br/>impossible for our souls to shed all the damage that's been done to them. We hold it, learn from it,<br/>grow past it, but it remains."</p><p>"Can't even imagine how fucked up shit's gonna be in our next life," Mickey stated, earning a sad<br/>smile from his husband.</p><p>"I won't deny that your souls are heavy and full of scars, but you always find each other. You<br/>brace yourselves and hoist the other on your back when the load becomes too burdensome to bear.<br/>Almas gemelas, soulmates. Some believe the notion is purely romantic, but they are mistaken,"</p><p>Benedicto explained, "A true soulmate is a soldier sent to protect the fragility of the darkest<br/>corners of your soul. They don't expect the shiny or clean, instead digging deep into the pain in<br/>order assuage; comfort to the Nth degree. Their heartbeat finds the same pattern as yours because<br/>their blood pumps through their body with a shared purpose; to love you better than you can love<br/>yourself."</p><p>"I want to be that to you," Ian whispered, overcome with emotion, a tear trickling down his face,<br/>"I want to be that."</p><p>"You are that," Mickey assured him, brushing away the tear and resting his forehead against his<br/>husband's, "Always been that."</p><p>"Should've done better," he stated, "Wanted to do better."</p><p>"When you were weak I carried you," Mickey said, "but you carried me, too," he promised,<br/>squeezing his eyes shut, "you were always enough."</p><p>"I wanted to be more," Ian sighed, his voice trembling.</p><p>"You're everything. Always been everything." He could feel Benedicto's eyes fixed on them but<br/>the sound of the waves lapping against the sand, and the way Ian was grasping onto his hands<br/>compelled him not to give a shit. After all, the psychic had witnessed more intimate moments<br/>between them than their mortal minds could remember.</p><p>Lost in the present as much as the past, they melted in each other, each touch grounding them<br/>more. With every whispered 'I love you' came increased ardor between adhered lips, so much so<br/>that they didn't notice the blanket being pulled from beneath their hips. And when they finally<br/>came up from air, they realized that Benedicto was no longer there. The moon had fallen low in<br/>the sky as the sun began its daily rise, splaying streaks of orange and pink across the horizon.</p><p>"I love you," Ian whispered, wondering how many million times he'd said it before, hoping they’d<br/>have plenty of lives together to say it more.</p><p>"I love you, too," Mickey promised, feeling the words deep in his bones, a confirmation that Ian’s<br/>soul had always been his home.</p><p>They walked back to their house with spinning heads and hands held tight, knowing that as long<br/>as they were together they would be alright… infinitely.</p>
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